


The Sun Would Not Have Risen

by Zoya1416



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Hogfather (2006)
Genre: GNU Terry Pratchett, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: March 12th is the 5th anniversary of Sir Terry Pratchett's death. I've borrowed extensively from his words inHogfather,paraphrased them slightly, and added mine in italics.Hogfatheris a book about the disappearance of the Hogfather, a jolly, old red-suited gift-giver, and something shady going on with the Assassins' Guild. Suddenly Discworld's entire myth system is unraveling, which is why a eight-foot tall rather bony personage who SPEAKS IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS must take his place. It's all HO HO HO with weeing pigs in a children's toy store, until it becomes rather more than that. Susan Sto Helit, DEATH'S granddaughter, steps into the fight which must be won by dawn.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	The Sun Would Not Have Risen

_The Hogfather stood up in the snow and shook out his robe which was exactly the color of blood. A wooden object rose from the white snow before him, and coalesced into a sleigh. It looked as if it had been put together out of crudely trimmed trees, and was pulled by four huge boars. White sparkles of frost glittered on their hairs._

_Behind him an cloaked, eight-foot tall skeleton was facing an angry young woman whose white hair had one streak of black. She had saved the life of a bleeding boar, which became a bleeding man, tattooed and naked except for a fur loincloth, and then twice marked for sacrifice with a bean in his throat, who then became a man with fur hood and fur boots, and then a huge man, red robed._

I WILL GIVE YOU A LIFT BACK.

"Thank you. Now . . . tell me . . ."

WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU HADN'T SAVED HIM?

"Yes! The sun would have risen just the same, yes?" The woman brushed a hand against her hair and it twirled back into a tight bun.

NO.

_He inspected the boars. Gouger, Rooter, Tusker, Snouter - all present, their breath steaming in the cold._

"Oh, come on. You can't expect me to believe _that._ It's an astronomical _fact."_

THE SUN WOULD NOT HAVE RISEN.

The women's voice was scornful. "It's been a long night, Grandfather! I'm tired and I need a bath! I don't need silliness!"

THE SUN WOULD NOT HAVE RISEN.

"Really? Then what would have happened, pray?"

_The Hogfather checked the boars' harnesses and felt them loose in their traces._

A MERE BALL OF FLAMING GAS WOULD HAVE ILLUMINATED THE WORLD.

"Ah," said the woman dully. "Trickery with words. I thought you'd have been more literal-minded than that." 

I AM NOTHING IF NOT LITERAL-MINDED. TRICKERY WITH WORDS IS WHERE _HUMANS_ LIVE.

"All right. I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need . . . _fantasies_ to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. 

**HUMANS NEED FANTASIES TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.**

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little -"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE _LITTLE_ LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

_The red robe rippled as he climbed into his sleigh and checked his pack. It contained, as always, exactly the number of gifts he needed._

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING. 

"They're not the same at all!" 

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN _SHOW_ ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. 

"But . . ." 

_He gathered the reins and tugged them gently, to be sure they lay well._

AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD AS IF THERE IS SOME . . .SOME _RIGHTNESS_ IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED. 

"Yes, but people have _got_ to believe that, or what's the _point -"_

MY POINT EXACTLY. 

_He clucked to the boars; the crude runners slid along the snow as if they'd been greased, and the sleigh rose into the night. He disappeared into the clouds, like mist, like a myth about families and children and joy._

_Children become parents; ideals become reality; love is lost and sometimes found, and sometimes families are not about blood. But stories persist. Just because it's a story doesn't mean it's not real._

**Author's Note:**

> Both my parents died in the month of March, and I've been thinking about families, as a child and as a parent. I wish love for all families which are found.


End file.
